


Recovery

by paperscribe



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Painkillers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-18 13:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1429564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperscribe/pseuds/paperscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which painkillers make Robbie go a bit strange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recovery

They're both on leave for the next few days, and Lewis has been prescribed painkillers, as his injury was a bad one and needed stitches.

Lewis had pulled a face at the sight of the prescription. "I hate these. They make me go a bit…strange till I get used to them."

"Do you want me around?" Hathaway asked. "Just in case?"

Lewis didn't answer, which meant that he probably did but didn't feel right asking for it.

Hathaway had nodded. "I'll be there."

Which is how he comes to be sitting in Lewis's armchair, reading quietly while Lewis rests. The pain medication seems to make Lewis a bit drowsy, and he's been drifting in and out of sleep all morning.

"James?" Lewis's voice is soft, softer than Hathaway has ever heard it.

Hathaway lowers his book. "I'm here."

"Are you all right?"

Hathaway frowns at his governor. "Am _I_ all right?"

Lewis smiles, and his smile is soft too. Everything about him is soft today…soft and sleepy and open. "I know you worry about me."

Hathaway gives Lewis a slight smile in return. "I'm fine. Thank you." He pauses. "How do you feel?"

"Happy," Lewis says.

Hathaway tips his head to one side. "Happy?"

"I'm here, and you're here," Lewis says. "So I'm happy."

Hathaway's smile is unplanned this time. "That's very nice, sir. Thank you."

"Would you sit next to me?" Lewis asks.

There isn't really any room on the sofa, and Hathaway doesn't want to jar Lewis or his arm for fear of hurting him, so he sits on the floor next to the sofa. "As requested."

Lewis lifts his uninjured arm and reaches out, stroking Hathaway's hair. Hathaway freezes a bit, not sure what to do at the first touch, but when Lewis continues to stroke his hair, the touch becoming a gentle repetition, he relaxes. It's…nice.

"I like your hair," Lewis says.

"I've always been partial to it," Hathaway jokes.

"That's good," Lewis says earnestly, apparently unable to get to grips with humour in this state. Hathaway feels unexpectedly protective of this gentle, absentminded side of Lewis.

They sit in silence for a moment, and then Lewis moves his hand away from Hathaway's hair and says, "I have a secret. Do you want to hear my secret?"

"If you want to tell me," Hathaway says, thinking that perhaps it will be a mercy if Lewis doesn't remember what he's said during this particular episode.

"Sometimes I'm scared," Lewis says.

The word choice, 'scared', makes Lewis sound oddly young, and Hathaway turns to look at him, the protective feeling inside only strengthening. "What are you scared of?"

"Lots of things. Getting hurt. Something happening to the kids. Doing something that hurts you."

Hathaway shakes his head. "You couldn't hurt me."

There is grief in Lewis's eyes. "I have hurt you."

Hathaway opens his mouth to deny it, but it seems wrong to lie at a moment when Lewis is fundamentally incapable of lying.

"Don't think I don't remember every time," Lewis says. "I say something and…you get this _look_ on your face…" He shakes his head. "Makes me feel as though I've slapped you."

"I had no idea," Hathaway says, surprised both that Lewis has noticed and that it continues to bother him.

"No, well," Lewis murmurs. "Governors are never supposed to doubt themselves, are they? Not outside their own minds, anyway." He touches Hathaway's arm. "Sometimes I say the worst possible thing and I never make it up to you, but that doesn't mean I don't want to."

Hathaway rests his hand gently atop Lewis's. "You're all right."

"Can you forgive me?"

"Of course," Hathaway says quietly. "And I do."

The relief is plain to see on Lewis's face. "Thank you."

Hathaway gives Lewis a warm look. "Do you feel better now?"

Lewis nods. "James?"

"Mm?"

"If it happens again…if I say something wrong…what should I do? To fix it?"

"You could play with my hair again." Hathaway frames it as a joke, though he's not sure it is.

Lewis giggles, and it's an unexpected sound, but a glorious one. "Might seem a bit dodgy at a crime scene."

"We'll tell everyone it's a primate grooming ritual, and you're checking me for fleas."

That makes Lewis giggle harder, almost uncontrollably, and Hathaway finds himself smiling at the sound. Lewis always appreciates his jokes, but Hathaway has never seen him so free of self-control before. It's endearing and…rather sweet.

"A primate grooming ritual," Lewis repeats, still giggling a bit to himself. "Doesn't that mean you have to groom me as well?"

Hathaway smiles. "If you like."

"It's only fair," Lewis says.

"I'd hate to be unfair, sir."

Lewis smiles, patting Hathaway's hand. "You know I love you, don't you?"

Hathaway's head whips round, and he stares at Lewis. He knows he should say something, but he can't even force an incredulous 'what?' past his lips.

Lewis seems vaguely surprised by Hathaway's surprise. "Haven't I told you before? I was sure I had."

This time, Hathaway manages to say, "No, sir, I think we missed that benchmark."

"Mmm," Lewis says. "Well. Doesn't matter. I've told you now."

Yes, he has, and Hathaway has no earthly idea what to do about it.

"It's all right," Lewis says, his breaths deepening and slowing, clearly drifting back toward sleep. "You don't have to love me back. I just wanted you to know."

"Thank you," Hathaway says quietly.

Lewis nods, yawning, eyes fluttering shut. In half a minute, he's asleep again.

But all Hathaway can hear is Lewis's voice, saying, _You know I love you, don't you?_

***  
The lancing pain in Lewis's arm wakes him, and he grumbles a bit, propping himself up.

Hathaway looks up from his book. "Sir?"

"Don't fuss. I'm all right," he tells Hathaway. Everything in his head still feels slightly floaty, but nowhere near as much as the last time he woke up. He remembers feeling lovely and happy and warm, and stroking James's hair, and…

…oh, Christ. Lewis's heart is suddenly pounding. Hathaway sat by the sofa, and Lewis petted him like a bloody dog. And talked to him about…feelings and things, and…did he tell him he loved him? He did, didn't he?

Hathaway has noticed the consternation, though he doesn't seem to have worked out where it comes from. "What's wrong? Do you need water or…?" He hovers awkwardly, waiting for instructions.

He's not going to bring it up, Lewis realises. Hathaway is much too polite and much too introverted to mention Lewis's drug-induced declaration of love. Now Lewis has a choice. He can do the mature thing and bring it up himself, or he can do the cowardly thing and pretend he doesn't remember what he said.

_I'm sorry, James. I'm going to be a coward._

"I'm all right," Lewis says. "I was…talking to you before, wasn't I? The last time I was awake?"

Hathaway tenses. "You were."

Look at the lad…bloody terrified to face the idiotic act of his governor. "Only I can't quite remember what we talked about…"

And the tension falls away. "Nothing important, sir. It's all right."

_Nothing important._ The words are like blows, even though Lewis had already made up his mind to ignore what had happened. Nothing important in a man in his fifties unburdening his heart to someone. Nothing at all.

Lewis finds he doesn't have any desire to get up after all, and leans back against the pillows. "Oh. Good."

***  
Hathaway is back to work not long after that, with Lewis following. Innocent keeps them primarily deskbound, which Lewis grumbles about but doesn't really seem to mind. Hathaway is grateful for the change in routine.

Nothing is different between the two of them. That's the worst bit.

Hathaway had always thought that if someone made a confession of love to you, the world would change. And it has. He finds himself thinking about it all the time now…what Lewis said that day. It's taken him a long time to work through it and to decide how he feels about it. He finally knows that he'd like to reciprocate. He'd like to try…whatever it was Lewis might have wanted to try.

Only thing is, Lewis no longer remembers wanting it.

Lewis, however, isn't a fool. "Have I done something?" he demands on a particularly difficult day.

Hathaway stares at the folders on his desk, willing himself not to look up. "No, sir."

"You have that look on your face."

Hathaway carefully schools his expression into something more neutral. "Look, sir?"

"As though I'd…" Lewis doesn't finish his sentence. Instead, he crosses to Hathaway, who keeps his eyes downcast…which is why it's such a surprise when he feels Lewis's hand atop his hair.

"Fancy a primate grooming ritual, lad?" Lewis asks.

Hathaway looks up so quickly he almost hurts his neck. It can't be. "You…remember?"

Lewis nods silently.

"All of it?"

"Most."

But Hathaway can't bring himself to take that last leap of faith, to explain how he feels…how he's come to feel. He nods.

"And I don't…regret…anything I've said," Lewis adds. "You might. But I don't."

"I don't either," Hathaway says, the words falling out of him in a rushed whisper.

The emotion in Lewis's eyes looks like nothing so much as fear of potential heartbreak. "No?"

"No."

Lewis looks shaky now. "You should've said."

"I didn't have the benefit of pain pills." The moment Hathaway has said that, he wants to hide beneath his desk.

Lewis only laughs. "No." He pats Hathaway's shoulder. "Come on. We'll finish this and then I'll buy you a pint."

Hathaway thinks that's the best possible outcome.


End file.
